


Waiting For The Sun

by wyrmsandrocs



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, aleksander is less shitty, all is well yall, also still defs in progress so dont worry, fear not, hes actually trying to fix the fold, i'll add more tags as i post more, its about the same level as there is canon in shadow and bone, like way less shitty, so if thats not your cup of tea, the main ship here is nikolai/aleksander and that doesnt happen for ages, theres plenty of non shippy stuff too, very minor darkling/alina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmsandrocs/pseuds/wyrmsandrocs
Summary: This was not what he had wanted.Aleksander stood before the writhing cloud of darkness he had created, listening to the screams of the monsters within. It would not bend to his will, neither the darkness nor the monsters. What good was a weapon that you could not wield?The Shadow Fold, they were calling it. The Unsea.This was not what he had wanted.





	1. Chapter 1

This was not what he had wanted.

Aleksander stood before the writhing cloud of darkness he had created, listening to the screams of the monsters within. It would not bend to his will, neither the darkness nor the monsters. What good was a weapon that you could not wield?

The Shadow Fold, they were calling it. The Unsea.  


This was not what he had wanted.  


Already, reports of attacks on Grisha were reaching him, angry otkazat’sya lashing out at innocents.  


This was not what he had wanted.  


“What happened?” He asked the darkness. He had thought it all through. His power would seep into the world, corrupting the space between land and sky. It would salt the earth, make it barren and hostile, but not deadly. Never deadly.  


The monsters screamed again, and he shivered, though the night was warm and his kefta was thick.

He hadn’t planned for the people, never considered what his darkness might do to a human. Stupid. Foolish, stupid boy. It was almost as if his mother was there with him.

He reached out to darkness, tested its bond to him. It would not respond, too far away to answer. He pulled the energy of it taut, clutching it close. The mass of shadows froze for a single heartbeat before resuming in its movements. He could not destroy it.

“Idiot.” He glared at its silhouette, blacker even than the night sky.

This was not what he had wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Aleksander had been in the library for days.

There had to be a way to fix it. Not even the Second Army’s uniforms could protect Grisha from this. He had seen children from the school bleeding, injured, attacked by the people they were supposed to be fighting for. He had to fix it.

They were demanding his blood, and he would give it soon. He could disappear for a while, come back as a new man. But first he had to find an answer.

He had been in the library for days. 

He knew that he could ask his mother, that she would know some secret he did not. But he was not prepared to face her, not after what he’d done. She had overlooked his sins in the past, his flaws, but not this one. Never this one. 

There had to be a way to fix it. He had tried everything his powers would allow, barely escaped his own devils that lived in the blackness of the Fold. Nothing had worked and the darkness still shrouded the land. There was no way to reach the sea, to reach the other half of their homeland. They were an island isolated by shadows.

He had been in the library for days, and still he had found nothing. He packed his things carefully, saving the journals he had yet to search. The slanted writing was a comfort. He was not the first of his family to make a mistake. He would not be the last.

It happened as it always did, disappearing into the night. He had left a suitable corpse behind. He would be declared dead by morning. His mother’s hut was quiet as he walked by. He did not stop to wake her. She knew him too well to believe he was dead.

He made his way out into the streets of the sleeping city, kefta discarded and steel left behind.

The Black Heretic was gone and he was Arkady once more.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been centuries since Aleksander had found the answer.

He had found it in a book, a dusty, forgotten text. It detailed the Grisha that had been called saints, the Grisha who had come before him, before his mother, before his grandfather and all his powers. There was a Grisha who held the sun in her hands, who had come before any whisper of the Morozova name. She was long dead.

The shadows would not be dispelled by his power alone, and Ravka remained a shattered country, warring with both neighbors.

And Aleksander waited.

He waited for a girl who could hold the sun in her hands, a girl who could chase away the shadows he had created. He waited for a girl that could banish the darkness in his soul.

It had been centuries since he had found the answer, centuries he had waited for her.

Now here she was in front of him, scrawny and bloodied, a product of the war he had brought upon his land. But he could feel the sun inside her. 

“Maybe you only look like a mouse.”

It had been centuries since he had found the answer, and now she was in front of him at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to post the next couple chapters! This is really the last chapter in this style, the rest have more dialogue and character interaction, so expect longer updates from here on out. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Every eye was trained on Aleksander as he entered the clearing, his people and their assailants all frozen in place. And then the commotion began again. He slid easily from his mount and flung his arms wide. It was a practiced motion.

Darkness shot from his palms, twisting its way over the eyes of the Fjerdans in the clearing. Some screamed and dropped their weapons, clawing at the shadows, others flailed their swords blindly at whatever was in front of them. The battle was decided and the Fjerdans fell easily.

“I’m here!” She called from somewhere beside him.

He turned and raised his hands.

“ _Nej_!” The man cried, “I don’t need to see to put my knife through her heart!”

Silence surrounded them and Aleksander suppressed a sigh. “You must realize that you’re surrounded.”

He edged up the hill. He couldn’t lose her.

“No closer!” The man was frantic. They were always frantic.

“Give her to me,” he summoned his darkness, letting it pulse in his hands, “and I’ll let you scurry back to your king.”

The man laughed. It was a frantic sound. “Oh no, oh no. I don’t think so. The Darkling doesn’t spare lives.”

The power thrummed in Aleksander’s skin as the man paused, looking down at Alina.

“He will not have you.” He raised the knife higher. “He will not have the witch. He will not have this power, too.” His eyes flashed. _“Skirden Fjerda!”_

His movement was fast, but Aleksander was faster. He let the power in his palms fly, crossing his arm in front of the man. It was a practiced motion.

There was a crack like thunder and then silence, the man’s body split and fell to the forest floor. And then Alina screamed.

Aleksander hurried up the hill, crouching in between her and the corpse. “Look at me.” His voice was level.

Her eyes were on him, but he knew she did not see him. Her voice was panicked when she spoke. “What...what did you do to him?”

“What I had to do. Can you stand?”

She nodded and he took her hands, pulling her to her feet. Her eyes strayed back to the body and he took her chin in his hand. “At me,” he said, meeting her gaze.

He led her down the hill, calling out to his men as he went. “Clear the road, I need twenty riders.”

“The girl?” Ivan asked.

“Rides with me.” She stayed by his horse as he stepped away to speak with Ivan. He had been stupid, sending her down the Vy. He had almost lost her.

“Moi Soverenyi?” Ivan asked.

“Send the carriage ahead, straight down the Vy. We ride off the beaten path.”

He turned back to Alina without waiting for a response. She was still shaking.

“A decoy,” he said as the carriage and it’s guards started out of the clearing. “We’ll take the southern trails. It’s what we should have done in the first place.” He cursed himself as he pulled on his gloves. He had been stupid.

“So you do make mistakes.”

He froze and looked at her, taken aback.

“I didn’t mean-” She looked nervous.

“Of course I make mistakes.” He gave her a half smile. “Just not often.”

He raised the hood of his kefta and offered her a hand. She hesitated, doubt flickering across her face.

His smile faded. “I did what I had to, Alina.”

She regarded him for one more quiet moment before taking his hand. He helped her into the saddle before swinging up behind her and kicking the horse into a trot. It was a practiced motion.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“I’m not used to people trying to kill me.”

A trace of a smile found its way onto his face. “Really? I hardly notice anymore.”

She glanced back at him. “And I just saw a man get sliced in half.”

He paused for only a moment before switching the reins to his other hand and pulling off his glove. He brought his palm up to the back of her neck and let his power flow through them both. She tensed for only a moment before relaxing.

It was mere minutes before she was asleep and he carefully drew his hand away, letting her fall back against him.

“Rest,” he murmured, “we have a long way to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so loving writing this fic, and I can't wait to post the next chapter, but they're getting longer which means I'll probably start posting every other day instead of every day. A longer chapter is on it's way though, so stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

Alina did not ride with him again after that first day. Not because he did not want her to, of course. He had waited for her for so long, too long. To have her with him, her power so close at hand, was exhilarating. So they rode separately, but he was never far away.

He had been foolish to send her down the Vy, only sparse guards for protection. He should have known better. He had been foolish and brash, the power hungry boy who he had been so many lifetimes ago. As they wove their way towards Os Alta and its double walls, he forced her image, the sunlight that she held, farther from his mind.

He did not let himself speak to her until they made camp in an abandoned farm. She was already kneeling in front of the small stream when Aleksander approached.

“What are you smiling at?” She whirled at his voice, startled. He felt her eyes on him as he knelt beside her, splashing the cool water on his face, running it through his hair. “Well?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Myself,” she admitted.

“Are you that funny?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m hilarious.”

He regarded her carefully, taking in the sight of her bruised cheek and tattered, bloody clothes. She was not what he had been expecting. He had never thought he would find her as a child, as he would any other Grisha. He had never considered that this would be how they met. But still, there was sunlight in her, fire in the way she spoke, that eased his worries. She was the one he had been looking for.

“I’m not Grisha,” she said suddenly, and he sighed inwardly.

“The evidence suggests otherwise.” This was the part he had never expected, her unwillingness to believe. “What makes you so certain?”

“Look at me!”

“I’m looking.”

“Do I look like Grisha to you?”

She didn’t, not at all. She looked like the kind of soldier that his mistake had created: tired, worn, battered. But she also looked like hope.

“You don’t understand at all.” He rose and turned back towards the barn.

“Are you going to explain it to me?”

He could have explained it to her, and a part of him wanted to. Instead he said, “not right now.” He smiled faintly, feeling her glare as he walked away.

His men had cleared a space for a fire, and the smell of cooking meat filled the ramshackle building. The Autumn night was cold and Aleksander was thankful for the warmth of both the fire and the kvas. He turned and found Alina watching him with curious eyes.

She flushed in the firelight as he rose and moved to sit closer to her. He silently handed her the flask, suppressing a smile at the face she made as she swallowed. Not everyone was suited to kvas, but he’d have thought that it’s heat wouldn’t bother her.

“Thank you.” She coughed, handing it back carefully.

He took another sip, turning his gaze back to the flames. He felt her gaze on him and bit back a sigh. “Alright, ask me.”

She was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke her words caught him off guard. “How old are you?”

He glanced at her, bemused. “I don’t know exactly.”

“How can you not know?”

He raised an eyebrow. “How old are _you_ exactly?”

She glared for a moment. “Well, then, roughly how old are you?”

“Why do you want to know?” There were hundreds of other questions she could have asked, hundreds that were more relevant to their situation. Hundreds that were easier to explain.

“Because I’ve heard stories about you since I was a child, but you don’t look much older than I am.”

He frowned for the barest moment. She either meant to flatter or her perception of age was off. He didn’t look old by any means, but she was very young. “What kind of stories?”

“The usual kind.” She sounded annoyed. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was clear.

He sighed and reached for a believable number. “One hundred and twenty. Give or take.”

“What?” She squeaked and a soldier glanced over. “That’s impossible.”

He looked into the fire, unsurprised by her reaction. “When a fire burns, it uses up the wood. It devours it, leaving only ash. Grisha power doesn’t work like that way.”

“How does it work?”

“Using our power makes us stronger. It feeds us instead of consuming us. Most Grisha live long lives.” He was still an outlier, though, even in the world of power and longevity.

“But not one hundred and twenty years.”

“No. The length of a Grisha’s life is directly proportional to their power. The greater the power, the longer the life. And if that power is amplified…” He shrugged.

“And you’re a living amplifier. Like Ivan’s bear.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Like Ivan’s bear.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But that means-”

“That my bones or a few of my teeth would make another Grisha very powerful.” It had been years since he was forced to consider the possibility a threat.

“Well, that’s completely creepy. Doesn’t that worry you a little bit?”

“No.” It was no longer something he feared, but the fear of water freezing around him, a girl he trusted raising her powers against him, that had never left him, not really. “Now you answer my question. What kind of stories were you told about me?”

She shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Well…our teachers told us that you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from outside of Ravka.”

“I didn’t have to gather them, they came to me. Other countries don’t treat their Grisha as well as Ravka. The Fjerdans burn us as witches, the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up, seeking the source of our power. What else?” He had heard worse than whatever she had to say.

“Well, there was an old serf who worked on the estate…”

“Go on. Tell me.”

“He…he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.” She must have noticed that his face had hardened, because she quickly added, “But Ana Kuya sent him packing and told us it was all peasant superstition.”

He sighed. “I doubt that serf is the only one who thinks that.”

They were both quiet and he watched the flames dance. He wanted to lay the truth before her, tell her what had happened, that he had spent every day since trying to fix it. But he couldn’t. Instead, he said, “my great-great-great-grandfather was the Black Heretic, the Darkling who created the Shadow Fold. It was a mistake, an experiment born of his greed, maybe his evil. I don’t know.” He looked down at his hands and took another drink of kvas. That part was true, he _didn’t_ know. He had been ambitious, but time had warped his memory. Had he wanted the power of the fold to harm or only to protect? It didn’t matter now. “But every Darkling since then has tried to undo the damage he did to our country, and I’m no different.”

He turned to her, watching the shadows that flickered over her face in the firelight. “I’ve spent my life searching for a way to make things right. You’re the first glimmer of hope I’ve had in a long time.”

“Me?” She looked concerned, skeptical.

“The world is changing, Alina. Muskets and rifles are just the beginning. I’ve seen the weapons they’re developing in Kerch and Fjerda. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end.” It didn’t have to, though, not if the Fold was gone and the relations between otkazat’sya and Grisha were mended.

“But…but what about the First Army? They have rifles. They have weapons.”

“Where do you think their rifles come from? Their ammunition? Every time we cross the Fold we lose lives. A divided Ravka won’t survive the new age. We need our ports. We need our harbors. And only you can give them back to us.” Only she could fix the mistake he made.

“How?” she pleaded. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“By helping me destroy the Shadow Fold.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy. This is all crazy.”

Aleksander didn’t take his eyes off of her face as she looked up at the stars. The look on her face was the expression of someone afraid, too blind to see the truth, too young to have found it yet.

He was surprised when she spoke again. “What about that thing you did? To the Fjerdan?”

He considered his answer carefully. She was still shaken, still rattled. “It’s called the Cut. It requires great power and great focus; It’s something few Grisha can do.”

She shivered, though they were close to the fire, rubbing her arms. He had a foolish urge to take her hand, help her power shower them in light and chase away the chill. But he knew it was not the cold that made her shudder.

“If I had cut him down with a sword, would that make it any better?” He hoped she would say no, that it was the violence, not his power, that unnerved her.

“I don’t know.”

Sorrow flashed across his face for the barest moment before he stood. He was foolish to hope. She was still young, a Grisha raised in an otkazat’sya world. As he walked farther from the firelight he sighed. She was not the girl he had expected, not his equal yet. But she was the hope he had found, and she would learn with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took so long, I know it's been ages! Things got really busy with the end of school along with working on my own original stories, but I'll hopefully be able to stay somewhat on top of this fic!


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t until two days later that they passed through the gates of Os Alta. The world was barely rid of the hazy gray of the dawn and the city was just waking. The tension lessened as soon as they were safe within its double walls. The Little Palace was close at hand.

Aleksander had seen the city a million times before, the same buildings lining the same streets, but he had never seen it through Alina’s eyes. She frowned with disappointment as they passed through the marketplace and main square of the city.

When they reached the bridge, however, the wonder of the place finally dawned on her. He watched her carefully as she took in the beauty of the true Os Alta. It was green and grand, and he had to admit it appealed to him far more than the Grand Palace proper.

As it came into sight, he rode closer to her. “So what do you think of it?”

Every golden facet of it was gleaming in the early morning sun, gaudy and horrible. She glanced at him nervously before looking back towards the palace. “It’s very…grand?”

He looked at her, letting his mouth quirk up in a faint smile. “I think it’s the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

They followed the path through the grounds until they entered the dense stand of trees that served as the barrier between the Grand Palace and its more tasteful counterpart. The last of his tension eased when the Little Palace came into view. They were back in his domain.

“Welcome to the Little Palace.” He swung off of his horse when they reached the steps, handing the reins to a waiting servant. Passing quickly through the entryway, they stepped inside the main hall. He pulled aside another servant, saying, “take the sun summoner to one of the rooms on the third floor. See to it that she settles in.”

“Of course, moi Soverenyi.”

He turned and gave Alina one final bow before hurrying off across the large room. There was much work to be done.

 

That work, however, could not occupy his mind for long. He sat through countless reports on the northern and southern borders, made arrangements for the next several trips he would be making, and sent a servant to alert the King that the sun summoner was safe behind the walls of the Little Palace and would be ready for a demonstration the next morning. Through it all his mind kept wandering back to Alina. She was here at last. The warmth he had been waiting for was in his palace, and the knowledge drove him to distraction.

It was not until late into the evening that he had a moment to himself where he was not being debriefed on what he had missed the weeks he was on the road with Alina or planning routes for the travel he had ahead of him. He had one final thing to see to before he could allow himself time to rest.

Genya slipped into the war room quietly, as she always did.

“Genya.” He nodded at her.

“Moi soverenyi,” she said, sitting gracefully in the chair beside him.

“I trust you know that the sun summoner arrived today?”

She nodded.

“Tomorrow she meets the King. Make her presentable.” Alina couldn’t meet the King in her current state. Or rather, the King couldn’t meet Alina in her current state. He didn’t have the eye to see the way the sun shone beneath her skin. He was blind to everything but superficial beauty.

“Of course.” She nodded once more. “Is that all?”

“She’s new to the world of Grisha, she’ll need guidance. Befriend her, earn her trust.”

“Is there anything I should be looking for?” Of course Genya knew there was more.

“Keep me posted on how her training is going and how she’s settling in. She may tell you things she won’t tell her teachers.” It might not be easy for her, at first. She was old to start training, weak from holding her power down as if it would consume her.

“Of course.” She was always formal, another Grisha that knew him as the Darkling and nothing less, the same as Ivan and Fedyor and all the rest. None of them were close enough to drop the formalities. It was a necessary precaution, but in moments like that he wished for someone to speak to him as an equal, a friend.

But he would not, could not, find that with Genya. So he simply said, “you may go.”

She nodded one final time before slipping out as silently as she had come. Her absence made the room feel empty around him, and he cursed himself. He couldn’t afford to allow himself loneliness.

He wasn’t Aleksander or Arkady or the foolish boy that had created the Fold. He was The Darkling, and there was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry that this has taken so long and that this chapter is so short, but things have been super crazy working on my original stuff. I'm hoping to start working on this more consistently, but it really depends on how school + work go from here. Thank you for being so patient! <3


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